


In Circles

by Aeriel



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Backstory, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Redemption, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/pseuds/Aeriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Morgan came into her own, lost everything, and traveled back in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Circles

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers for The Future Past. Title references a song from the game Transistor.

Growing up, Morgan never thought of one particular place as her home.  
  
It was hard to get attached when you moved around so frequently, after all. And it was difficult when most of the children your age looked at you funny because your parents were heroes and your godfather had once ruled Ylisse. Not that it really mattered what the local children thought, because Morgan always had to say goodbye to them before long. It wasn't safe to stay anywhere long enough that the Plegians or the Grimleal might hear of them.  
  
So Morgan learned to be quiet and patient and piece together the adult conversations so that they would talk to her and regard her as a friend instead of a responsibility. It was difficult when she knew some of them thought she should never have been born, that it was wrong to bring a child into such chaos.  
  
Not that any of them dared express that opinion in front of Morgan's formidable mother. She would glare them down and yell, "Mind your own business!" and put her arm around Morgan's shoulders protectively. Morgan loved her mother, not least because she could be so terrifying when she wanted to be.

Sure, it was a little intimidating when Mother turned that heat on her. Morgan would beg to watch skirmishes with Risen or bandits when the opportunity arose, and Mother always snapped, "No! You're too little, you have to stay where it's safe."  
  
"But I want to see Father's tactics!" Morgan protested.  
  
"Ugh, what is wrong with you?" Mother would exclaim. "It's not some kind of game!"  
  
"She's harsh with you because she's afraid you'll get hurt," Father said once, after Mother had left Morgan near tears with a heated lecture. "She's never been very good at expressing her tender side, but it's there."  
  
"I know she's just worried about me," Morgan mumbled. "But it's silly. I wouldn't try to fight or anything, not yet, I just want to see how you give orders. I know you'll keep us safe."  
  
Something grim surfaced in Father's eyes that she had only seen in the others before. "There's no guarantee of that. I've far from a perfect record."  
  
Morgan knew this, but she still couldn't help but be in awe of him. Father, who had once commanded armies to flawless victories, who had made a name for himself without a single memory of where he had come from or where he belonged. If Father didn't need a home, neither did Morgan, and she was happy to sit at his knee and memorize the particulars of the weapons triangle and which type you'd give to a novice (bronze) or an expert (silver), and how to tell if a unit could resist magic or arrows and which fighters were best suited to which kinds of terrain and when to use a rescue staff and all the hard-won lessons he'd learned in the heat of battle.

When Morgan expressed an interest in strategy, after a moment of surprise Father set her some puzzles in the shape of diagrams with two armies partway through a skirmish. "Which units are vulnerable here?" he would ask, and Morgan would point to the pegasus knight in range of the sniper or the paladin paired with a valkyrie mere steps away from a general armed with a beast killer lance. "Good. Now, what would you do to keep them safe?"

She was more enthusiastic than thorough at first, and Father repeatedly pointed out times when she carelessly left a unit open to critical hits in the process of protecting the others, or times when she came up with an elaborate risky series of maneuvers to solve a problem with an safer and simpler solution. Still, she had no intention of giving up, and even Laurent had to own that she was remarkably driven for a child.  
  
There was only one other child that travelled around with their small group, and she was as shy and anxious as Morgan was friendly and determined. Morgan didn't think she liked Caeda very much, but as she was a permanent feature and practically a relation, she resolved to love her anyway.

Lucina, Caeda's mother, was extremely patient with the both of them and was the only person besides Father who could get through to Mother when she was in a bad mood. Morgan got to understand over the years that Mother complained more or less to have something to talk about and didn't usually mean half her criticisms. Caeda, on the other hand, flinched every time Mother addressed her, which of course prompted Mother to comment sarcastically on the flinching.  
  
"You're so brave," Caeda said once. "You can't wait to grow up and fight with everyone. I just want to be a child forever so I'll never need to wield Falchion."  
  
"Being a child doesn't mean you'll never have to fight," Morgan pointed out. "Manaketes look like children for centuries and they still have to defend themselves."  
  
Caeda looked at her feet. "I'm just so scared."  
  
"Hey, what is it your mother always says? 'Hope will never die'? You should think about that," Morgan suggested. "Father told me there's no better teacher than experience. And isn't it better to learn and get strong than to sit around being scared all the time?"  
  
"Of course you're not scared," Caeda bit out. "Your father's still alive."  
  
Yes, Morgan would rather not have been friends with Caeda. But her options were limited. There were her beloved parents, of course, and Chrom and Lucina who always had a smile for her. And there was Henry and Ricken, who were weirdos, but weirdos Morgan adored fiercely and who loved her back with equal measure.

But there was also Kjelle, who ignored Morgan outside of training, and Laurent who had no patience for children, and stern Frederick and anxious Nah, and finally Lissa and Maribelle, who had been somber for as long as Morgan had known them, for their sons had died when she was a baby.  
  
There were a few more friends of Father's out there, Morgan knew, but they had gone their separate ways and little was known of their whereabouts. Likely they were across the sea, where Plegia had yet to take a firm hold, and where no one talked of the possible resurrection of the fell dragon Grima.  
  
"What's the difference between Plegia and the Grimleal, anyway, Father?" Morgan asked one day when they were foraging for wood in the snowy north. "Don't the Grimleal serve Plegia? Why do we talk about them separately?"  
  
Father sighed. "They do and they don't, Morgan. Gangrel and his followers want to find and execute Chrom to avenge long ago slights to Plegia. Were they to succeed, they would go on to kill Lissa, Lucina, Kjelle and, if they learned of her existence, Caeda, thus exterminating the remains of Ylisse's royal family." He paused to sling the sack of branches to his other shoulder.  "The Grimleal have a different goal in mind, though they originate in the same country."  
  
Morgan frowned. "Why do the Grimleal want to kill Chrom?"  
  
"Oh, they couldn't care less about Chrom. They're looking for me."  
  
"What?!"  
  
Her father raised his right hand, showing Morgan the familiar markings she had sometimes tried to draw in the dirt when she was younger. "This is the mark of Grima. It means that they could use me to revive the dragon."  
  
"I won't let them!" Morgan shouted. "They can't have you!"  
  
Father pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it. Between your mother and the rest of our friends, I think I'm quite safe."  
  
Later, she would wonder if she had seen the shades of a lie in his face even then, or if he had truly believed his own words.  
  
It all changed on Morgan's sixteenth birthday.  
  
Everyone agreed that it was going to be a celebration, even though it had also been agreed that Morgan would fight alongside them starting on that day. A cake had been baked (Morgan hoped not by Maribelle or Kjelle), presents were laid out, and even Lissa and Maribelle looked happier than usual. Morgan herself was sent out with Caeda to the river to keep the preparations a secret until it was time.  
  
"I've been practicing," Caeda said suddenly, after a few minutes of silent attempts to skip stones over the water.  
  
Morgan blinked. "Practicing?"  
  
"With a sword. Not Falchion, it's too heavy and I'm scared I'll dent it or something. But, you know, so I can work my way up to it." Caeda was looking firmly in the other direction which Morgan knew meant she was blushing.  
  
"That's good," Morgan said sincerely. "I think you'll be surprised how much better it makes you feel."  
  
"Well, I can't run forever," she sighed. "And I got sick of your mother looking down her nose at me all the time."  
  
"She's not _that_ bad. Okay, maybe a little bit. I think my grandmother had her cleaning up pegasus poop when she was a kid so she thinks everybody should."  
  
Caeda wrinkled her nose. "Good thing we don't know any pegasi."  
  
"Hey, Morgan, Caeda! We're ready for you now!" came Ricken's voice.  
  
"Coming," they chorused, and tromped back to the little house they were staying in this month.  
  
The cake smelled good, Morgan had to admit, so it probably had been the handiwork of someone who knew how to bake. Father was waiting for her with a talisman in his hands. "Happy birthday, Morgan," he said, and kissed her on the forehead.

Morgan took it, beaming. "Thank you, Father! This is supposed to help my resistance to magic, right?"

Mother made an irritated noise. "You always spoil her, Robin. Now she'll turn up her nose at everything else."

"No, I won't," Morgan insisted, going to her. "I bet your present's great, Mother. You always have the best taste."

"Well, of course I do," Mother preened. She pulled a small fine comb with a ribbon on it out of her satchel, and presented it to Morgan. "My daughter should really take better care of her hair. It's one of the best features you inherited from me!"

Morgan smiled, accepting it. "Thank you, Mother. I'll do my best."  
  
"Well," said Chrom, "if we're giving presents before cake, then I think I should be next. I am Morgan's godfather after all."  
  
"Oh, fine," Mother said, though she looked pleased. "So long as it's not a full set of armor. Only Kjelle can pull that off."  
  
Chrom reached behind a bookcase and pulled out what Morgan recognized as Alm's Blade, a relatively rare weapon. "I think you're getting good enough for this now, and my daughter agrees. So this is from both of us."  
  
Morgan stepped forward to take the sword, but just as her fingers brushed against the sheath, something changed in the air, and everything happened at once.  
  
 Chrom dropped the sword with a clatter, stumbling forward and knocking Morgan onto the floor. And then, as she was staring at his face, just as confused as she was, she saw that someone else was lying on Chrom's back, and that some dark liquid was pooling on Chrom's shoulder, dripping onto Morgan's cheek.  
  
 _Blood_ , she thought dimly, as the others shouted and gasped and raced around her. _Someone is bleeding, and Maribelle and Lissa are going to have to get their staffs, because it keeps coming. Unless it's Maribelle who's bleeding. Who would curse Maribelle?_  
  
Chrom braced his hands on either side of Morgan and pushed his torso up, causing the body to slide off his back and land with a sickening thud next to Morgan.  
  
"Severa," Chrom whispered.

Morgan just stared, because she'd never truly understood before what it meant to not believe your eyes.  
  
It was Mother, bleeding out from a wound in her stomach that still crackled with dark magic which her hand was uselessly attempting to cover.  
  
"No, no, oh gods no," Morgan heard Lucina cry out from somewhere, as Chrom gripped Mother's shoulders.  
  
"It should have been me," Chrom said hoarsely. "Severa, why?"  
  
Morgan's mother smiled, faintly. "Idiot," she said softly. "My mother would never have forgiven me if I let her precious Chrom die."  
  
And her breaths were slowing down, and the blood was still coming, and Morgan wanted to say something, knew she had to say something, but her voice was gone and where was Father? Where was Father?  
  
Mother turned her head to see Morgan, her free hand twitching. Morgan immediately grabbed it and squeezed it, and felt a sob welling up in her throat as she received a faint squeeze in return. "Be... happy…" Mother rasped. "Love... you..."  
  
Her grip loosened, though her eyes stayed open, staring straight at Morgan. Morgan stared back, thinking that she should feel something, anything, but all she could do was wonder where Father was.  
  
There was a sudden sharp scream. Chrom jolted at it, leaping to his feet. Someone told Morgan to get up, and someone else told her not to.  
  
"She doesn't need to see this."  
  
"She's _already seeing it!_ "  
  
Laurent and Nah were arguing, Morgan realized. She rolled over and saw them shouting at each other, Maribelle a step behind, looking as sick as Morgan felt. Caeda was the one screaming, and Lucina and Lissa were dragging her outside.  
  
Slowly, Morgan got to her feet, and looked at the other side of the room. It was the most peculiar sight. Ricken, Henry, Frederick and Kjelle, their expressions grim, holding a wild looking Father against the wall. "It wasn't me," he gasped. "It wasn't me, I could never-- I would never-- Morgan! Tell them it wasn't me!"  
  
Chrom was standing beside her. She felt him shaking, like she had never known Chrom to shake in all her life. "But Robin," he said, softly, oh so softly, "who else could it have been? No one else can wield the fell dragon's power."  
  
"It wasn't him," Morgan said. Everyone looked at her. It seemed so absurdly obvious. "It was some dark mage or something. You don't have to be within sight to use Mire, right? You're all making a mistake." Because she knew her father, and Father would never kill her mother on her birthday.  
  
Frederick's eyes narrowed. "We saw him, Morgan. He came up behind milord and raised his hand. Only Severa was quick enough to intercept the blow."  
  
"It was Grima," Father rasped, looking vulnerable in a way she'd never seen before. "He was inside my head, moving my body… I don't know how, but it was him."  
  
"A convenient story," Kjelle said harshly. "Lay the blame on an invisible evil force. Meanwhile, what are we to do if 'Grima' should surface again?"

Chrom was moving now, advancing on Father. He slammed a fist into the wall, and the entire house shook.  
  
 _"Chrom!"_ Maribelle exclaimed. "That is not behavior fitting of a gentleman! And I for one do not want to be killed by a falling beam!"  
  
Chrom ignored her. "I trusted you, Robin," he breathed. "I loved you. You were my dearest friend."  
  
"Chrom, you have to believe me," Father whispered. "I never wanted this. I'd have taken the blow myself if it had been someone else. Severa, she… she knew that. She wanted to spare me that pain. But in the process she… she…"  
  
"I do believe you," Chrom said quietly. "And I believe you can still withstand Grima. But we both know it has to be away from me."  
  
"Help me, Chrom, please," Father pleaded. "There's only one way to keep me from becoming Grima. There's only one way to save what's left of me. You have to kill me, quickly."  
  
Morgan's stomach turned. _"No!"_  
  
Chrom shook his head. "No. You may hate yourself now, but there's still good you can do in this world, and it's a better place for having you in it."  
  
"There is nothing, nothing I could ever do that would possibly make this right," breathed Father.  "My wife lies dead and you talk of goodness? _I have killed her_ , and you believe I can be redeemed?" He spat in Chrom's face.  
  
Morgan cried out, and Kjelle and Frederick raised their weapons, but Maribelle raised a hand. "If I have learned anything from this horrible, foul war," she said, "it's that everyone deserves a second chance, provided they are suitably repentant. I believe some of our fallen comrades would agree."  
  
Chrom stepped back, not wiping the spit from his cheek. "Well said, Maribelle."

"Even if we believe it was Grima and not you, Robin," Ricken said, tears in his eyes, "we can never trust you again."  
  
"Hey, if you'd kill Severa, you might kill any of us," Henry pointed out. "And while I think that could be fun, I'm probably in the minority."  
  
Morgan's father hung his head, visibly sapped of will. "I might. It's true. You should leave me here. It's what I'd do in your place."  
  
"Then we're agreed," said Maribelle. "We set out as soon as possible. Right, Chrom?"  
  
"For Caeda's sake," Chrom said grimly. "It breaks my heart to do it but I see no other choice except cold-blooded murder, and I won't allow that. Release him. I don't think Robin will raise a hand to another today."  
  
Slowly, they obeyed. Frederick began to gather up their supplies, the grim lines in his craggy face more defined than ever. Laurent went to assist him without a word.  Ricken was openly weeping now, and Henry was doing his best to calm him down. Maribelle and Kjelle were still watching Father as he slid to the floor, and Chrom was walking past Morgan, who didn't understand what was happening. They couldn't leave Father here. Father was important. Father needed them.  
  
Someone put a hand on Morgan's shoulder, and she jumped.  
  
"Hey, sorry," Nah said, not meeting her eyes. "Um, are you okay? You've… kind of got blood all over your clothes. We should probably get that cleaned up before it stains."  
  
Morgan stared at her.  
  
"It might make you feel better to do something, even if it's stupid," Nah said defensively. "Just to… get away from the body."  
  
"Don't call my mother _the body_ ," Morgan bit out. "She had a name. She was a person. She was _my mother_."  
  
It was a relief to feel something, finally, even if it was searing rage with an edge of hysteria. "She was my mother," Morgan repeated.  
  
"Okay," Nah said quickly, withdrawing her hand. "That's fine. Do what works for you. I'll just help Laurent and the old man with the packing."

It was a testament to how distracted and tense everyone was that Frederick didn't even make an irritated sound at that.  
  
Chrom knelt by Mother and closed her eyes with two fingers. Morgan's throat burned at the small gesture. "Would someone care to assist me? I believe we should find Severa a more suitable resting place."  
  
Morgan was strangely cold as she watched them lift Mother and carry her out. She wasn't angry now, and she felt bad for snapping at Nah. It was just a body now, after all. She could see her mother wasn't in there anymore. And Mother wouldn't want her to get all emotional over something so stupid as a corpse.  
  
It was almost just her and Father in the room now. Maribelle stood in the doorway, uncertain. "Morgan," she said, "we're going to find a place to bury your mother. Do you want to look with us?"  
  
Morgan shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'll probably never be able to find it again anyway."  
  
Maribelle looked as though she wanted to say something, but changed her mind. "Very well. We'll come fetch you when we're ready to leave. You should say your goodbyes to your father."  
  
Which was strange, Morgan thought as Maribelle closed the door, because Father wasn't dead. He was right there, kneeling on the floor.  
  
Morgan went to him, crouching down so she was on his level. "Hey," she said. "You've still got me."  
  
Father raised his head and met her eyes. "Her whole life, she always believed that everyone put Chrom before her. She died thinking he was more important than her. But it wasn't true."  
  
"I know," Morgan said.  
  
"I would give anything," he whispered, "for her to have known it wasn't true."  
  
Morgan's eyes stung with tears. "I know."  
  
Father shuddered. "I can't start again. I can't be who they want me to be. I can't do it alone, and friendless."  
  
"You won't be alone and friendless."  
  
He frowned.  
  
"You won't be alone," Morgan repeated, "because I'm staying with you."  
  
They were silent for a moment. "Now I know I'm not the good man Chrom thinks I am," Father said quietly, "because I'm inclined to let you."  
  
"Mother wanted us to be happy," Morgan said firmly. "And I don't see how we can be happy without each other."  
  
Father closed his eyes. "You deserve the world, Morgan."  
  
"You _are_ the world to me," Morgan hissed, grabbing a fistful of his cloak. "So don't you dare die!"  
  
He began to laugh, but it contorted into a choked sob. "You sound just like her."

The funeral for Morgan's mother was a brief affair. The grave had already been dug by the time Morgan arrived, and Father refused to come at all. Everyone said a few words, shared a brief memory, and went on their way, except for Morgan, Lucina, and Chrom.  
  
Chrom sighed. "I'm no good at speeches. But there was no one who fought and loved as ferociously as Severa. She was a credit to her parents, and a fine mother. I won't soon forget her."  
  
Lucina took the shovel to bury her, but Morgan seized her wrist. "Please, I want to."  
  
"We'll take turns," Lucina said firmly.

Morgan wished she were better at putting her thoughts and feelings into words, like Father was. She wished there was something she could say to honor Mother's memory the way even Caeda had managed to. But every time she tried, she didn't even know where to start.

They worked in silence, until dusk fell and it became difficult to see if they had accomplished their goal.

"I didn't get to know your Mother well until we were adults," Lucina said, as they spread the dirt over the grave. "I wish it had been otherwise. Severa was truly valiant, with a far more generous spirit than she pretended."

Morgan frowned. "Wait, I thought you and Kjelle grew up with Mother and Laurent and Nah. What do you mean you didn't get to know her until you were adults? Wasn't Kjelle born like eight months after her?"

"Well, yes, but Severa's parents-- your grandparents-- were not in Ylisse's capital at that time. She spent her youth traveling from place to place with her parents, who felt they could do more good that way. It was only after her father's death and the fall of Ylissetol that she and her mother came to rejoin us in Regna Ferox, which was when your father and I met her."

Morgan hadn't known. Mother never said much about her parents or her life before she'd met Father. Morgan knew her grandparents had been heroes in their own right, devoted to their duty, but they had always been something of a sore subject with Mother. She had said, once, that she regretted the last words she said to her own mother, though she hadn't specified what was so bad about them.

She must have been searching so frantically for what she could say to Morgan so her daughter wouldn't have the same regrets.

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks then, and she bit back a helpless sob.

"It's all right, Morgan," Lucina said gently. "Sometimes it helps to cry. When my mother died, it took me hours to believe anyone could have bested her. Once I did, well, you might have mistaken me for a waterfall."

Part of Morgan wanted to yell back that it wasn't the same, that Lucina didn't know anything about what Morgan was feeling. But she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Lucina's mother was spoken of reasonably often-- everyone remembered her as a tough, fair lady who loved a friendly competition and took all of life's challenges in stride.

No one ever spoke of Lucina's husband in Lucina's presence, and what they did say was in hushed whispers. Lucina still wore his ring and told every would-be suitor that she was spoken for. Morgan had been too young to understand what had happened to him, and Lucina's behavior had confused her for a while.

"Love makes people insane," Mother had said by way of explanation. "Grief too, but love is the thing that makes you really act like an idiot. Trust me, Morgan, Lucina's way more together than I'd be if it were me."

Morgan squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, Lucina looked worried.

"I'm fine," Morgan said, which wasn't true, but she didn't want to burden Lucina. "We should get going."

When they returned to the house, it was clear that everyone else was ready to set out.

"Morgan, have you got all your things?" Lissa asked, hand on the wagon.

Morgan swallowed hard. "I'm not going with you. I'm staying with Father."  
  
Most of them didn't like it, of course. Caeda burst into tears again, and Nah said angrily that it wasn't safe, and Lissa agreed with her, and Ricken kept trying to pull Morgan aside, and she kept squirming out of his grip.  
  
And while everyone was arguing, Laurent said, "I must confess to a slight worry that whether or not Morgan comes with us, the moment we leave Robin behind, the Grimleal will take him and use him to resurrect Grima fully. In which case, there would be little point in sparing his life now when we would simply have to kill him later."  
  
Nah opened her mouth to object, but Father said, "Actually, I was thinking the same thing, Laurent. Much as I would try to avoid their grasp, it would be far safer to end my life here."  
  
Morgan shook her head fiercely, and thankfully, Chrom agreed. "You see, I don't believe that they would stop if they discovered your dead body, Robin. After all, Morgan is your child, a descendant of the same line. Who's to say they wouldn't set their sights on her in your absence?"  
  
A cold horror gripped Morgan. "Father, you never said Grima could use me too."  
  
"I don't think…" Father began, then stopped. "But you're right. I don't know."  
  
"Which leads me to conclude it would be best for Morgan to stay with you, to remind you that you still have a purpose," Chrom said. "Does anyone object?"  
  
"It isn't fair!" sobbed Caeda.  
  
"But it's what I want," Morgan said. "If you take me away from Father you might as well kill me."  
  
"The girl's gone mad," Frederick murmured, but Kjelle shook her head, and Lucina stepped forward to embrace Morgan.

"I guess you think I'm crazy too," Morgan muttered into her hair.  
  
"Not at all," Lucina said, and Morgan pulled away to look at her. "I wish we could persuade you otherwise, but I know if it were my father, I'd make the same choice."  
  
They said goodbye, one by one. First Laurent, encouraging her to keep her mind sharp, then Nah, telling her to watch out for critical hits. Kjelle, in a moment of uncharacteristic kindness, said that she admired people who stood by the people they loved. Lissa just sobbed and hugged Morgan and Father before stumbling back to Maribelle, who told Father in no uncertain terms not to let her down before kissing Morgan on the cheek.

Frederick at first simply gave them a curt nod, then gave in and told Morgan not to neglect her training. Henry laughed at that, and ruffled Morgan's hair, who grinned up at him. "Hey, there we go!" Henry said, still laughing. "If you can smile, you're all right. Us happy people live pretty long lives. And are really good at killing things, but that's just a side bonus."

Ricken cried all over Morgan while she tried to assure him that she'd be fine. "I haven't been messed up like this in forever," he sniffled, beginning to pull himself together. "I'm just really going to miss you, Morgan!"  
  
And then Caeda hugged Morgan, which she hadn't done in years, and whispered, "Hope will never die."  
  
Chrom and Lucina stood together, looking more alike than ever. "I hoped a day like this would never come," Chrom said wearily. "I've lost so many that are dear to me-- losing you, Robin, and you, Morgan, feels as though all those old wounds have opened up again."  
  
Lucina put her hand on her father's shoulder. "Having said that, we will go on. As we have done before, as we will do again, and again. Because we are never truly vanquished while there is still hope in our hearts, and while we still have the will to fight for what is right."  
  
Robin looked wistful. "If there's a Ylisse again, you'll be a spectacular exalt, Lucina. Severa always thought so."  
  
Morgan hugged them both, and then they were gone-- all of them.  
  
If it had been up to Father, the two of them might have stayed in the house for some time, watching the blood crust over on the floor. But Morgan decided that until Father was acting like his old self again, she was not going to let him be in charge. The next morning she dragged him outside and they set out in the opposite direction from Chrom's group.  
  
It was difficult, at first. Father would often stop, lost in thought or something, and Morgan would have to nudge him out of it and remind him that no, they couldn't stop here. They needed food, and water, and preferably a place to sleep and maybe a shop where they could get some new weapons. And they couldn't stay there forever, they had to keep going from place to place so the Grimleal wouldn't find them.  
  
Morgan got used to carrying on a conversation with herself after a while, because the silence was unbearable. She'd talk about trees and rivers and sticks and stones and ports and ships and rain and wind, and tactics of course, always tactics. Which turned out to be very useful when they were attacked by Risen. Father came to life then, directing her the way he'd been directing units Morgan's entire life, and leading them to a stunning victory of course.  
  
"Wow, I would have done that so differently," Morgan remarked afterwards, picking up some bullion. "I guess I still have a lot to learn!"  
  
Gradually, Father began to take a more active role in their journey. He argued with her about what supplies to buy and insisted they change direction several times. The days were pretty okay, even if she missed Lissa and Ricken begging Frederick to slow down, and Maribelle falling asleep on her feet, and Henry playing pranks and Mother needling Laurent... well, everything she used to take for granted.

The nights were the worst. They both had trouble sleeping because of the dreams. Sometimes Morgan would lie awake, staring at the stars and wondering if Mother was with her own parents, watching them.  
  
Still, Morgan kept her mother's last words going through her head like a mantra. _Be happy._ _Be happy. Be happy. Be happy._ Of course Morgan was happy. She had always been happy. And even if she wasn't, well, she was pretty good at pretending to be happy.  
  
They ended up going west after a while, and as days turned to weeks, Father showed no sign of changing course. Morgan thought at first that they were heading to one of the port cities to book passage into Valm or Chon'sin, but they changed directions before they could reach Port Feroxi.

"Hey, Father," she said, one day when they were resting. "Are you leading us somewhere in particular?"  
  
"As a matter of fact I am," he said calmly. "I've heard rumors that there are ruins in the area that have significance to Naga. I thought we might go there and pray for guidance."  
  
"Huh, I never knew you were so religious, Father," Morgan said brightly. "But sure, sounds like a good idea to me. I bet the Grimleal wouldn't dare go near a place that belonged to the divine dragon!"  
  
Father smiled. "My thoughts exactly. I do believe if there was ever a time to put my fate in the hands of a gracious power, it would be now."  
  
Something struck Morgan as a bit funny about that statement, but she put it aside for the moment. "Great! So how long do you think we have till the next village?"  
  
No one could ever accuse Father of being ungrateful. Now that he was reasonably stable and committed to being alive, he always told Morgan how much she meant to him, and how much he appreciated her trust and belief in him. "Morgan, I wouldn't be the person I am today if it wasn't for you," he'd say. "I couldn't be prouder of my little girl."  
  
Morgan, for her part, basked in the attention. She had always been close to her father, but traveling with him and being his equal partner was a dream come true. She just tried not to think too hard about how this dream had come to be. _Be happy._  
  
It always made her laugh when they'd come to an inn and Father would introduce her as "the love of my life". People definitely thought they were a little weird, and a little overly intense in their affection, but Morgan didn't care because she probably wasn't going to see any of these people again.  
  
They arrived at the ruins early in the morning. Father put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Wait here, I need to make sure we aren't walking into a battle."  
  
Morgan saluted. "Yessir!"  
  
He took his time assessing the situation. Morgan was kind of wondering if she should go in and make sure something wasn't wrong when finally she heard him coming back outside.  
  
"It's all right," he said, thought he looked a little tired. "Everything's going to be all right."  
  
Morgan laughed. "Everything? You didn't talk to Naga in there, did you?"  
  
"Actually," Father said, and was the sky always that peculiar color? "I did."  
  
Something wasn't right. "Wait, really? I didn't know it was that easy to get a divine audience!"  
  
He smiled, and Morgan felt very young, suddenly. "I've been praying for this for some time. It hasn't been easy at all."  
  
"What is it? Father, what did you pray for?" She thought of Mother, abruptly, but of course that was impossible.  
  
"I'm sending you away, Morgan." Morgan's stomach dropped. "Far away, where I can't follow. You're going into the past, before I made my worst mistakes. You can help my past self and guide all our friends into a better future."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Morgan tried to laugh, but it sounded more panicked than amused. "People can't travel through time! And even if that were possible, I couldn't leave you, not after all we've been through together!"  
  
"I knew you'd say that," Father said, with that little spark in his eye he always got when he accurately predicted his enemy's next move. "And I knew if I sent you away as you were, you'd spend all your time trying to get back to me and never thinking of yourself. You deserve better than to spend the rest of your life looking after me, Morgan. So when you arrive, you'll have forgotten."  
  
Morgan felt sick. "But I don't want to forget, Father. I love you, and Mother, and Chrom, and everyone. I can't forget. How will I know who I am if I forget?"  
  
"You're strong, Morgan, stronger than I am, braver than I am. You will always find your way."  
  
Morgan reached for him, even as he began to look less and less real, and managed to grab his hand, which he closed around hers. "There's something else you're not telling me, I know it. People don't just get sent back in time by Naga because she's feeling generous."  
  
"Clever as always, my girl," Father said fondly. "No, they don't. If we had the Fire Emblem, it might be a different story. Miracles have been known to happen. But as it is, I gave her the most powerful thing I could."  
  
Morgan was crying now, her nose running, snot and tears falling onto her collar. She was an ugly crier, Mother had always said so. _Be happy._ "Y-you didn't-"  
  
He nodded, and squeezed her hand. "It's as Chrom said, in the end. There was still one good thing left for me to do."  
  
"He didn't mean for you to _die!"_ she sobbed.  
  
Father smiled again. "I've lived my life, for better or worse. Now it's time for me to be with your mother. And it isn't goodbye, not exactly. There's another me out there waiting to welcome you home, one who deserves you in his life."  
  
"It's not the _same_!" Morgan protested. "We could still be happy, Father! We are happy! Haven't we been happy, all this time?"  
  
"This is bigger than me, or you, or even all our friends," he said firmly. "This is a chance for the whole world to change and become a better place. With you by their side, the Shepherds won't lose Ylisse. People will live who would have died. Innocent lives will be spared. And you'll have a family, a real family again."  
  
"But how am I supposed to help them if I can't remember?" she cried. Her fingers slipped through his, as the world lost focus. There were colors, blinding colors, and Morgan shut her eyes.  
  
She couldn't forget. She wouldn't forget. Her name was Morgan, she was the daughter of Robin and Severa, she was going to be the best tactician in the world, Mother's last words were be happy and Mother loved her and Father loved her and--  
  
and--  
  
and?  
  
Her name was Morgan. She was Robin's daughter. She was going to be the best tactician in the world, and she was very happy.  
  
Where was she?


End file.
